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Late night crisp and nip. An icy edge. It tingles. A coolness. A slight sweetness that defies it’s chilled flood. It spreads onto the bristly surface like a thick glide of a paint daub gently squeezed to a release. Pearled white and softly gleaming, suitably symbolizing the effect its meant to have. Time can be marked by its application. A second’s precursor to the simplicity of a mundane action that resets the day to day into refreshened sighs, sharply stating a revolving routine.